The glint of steel that had preceded so many of their own verbal fencing matches flashed past him, and Elizabeth’s chin, accompanied by the most enigmatic of smiles, rose. “Yes, it is true; they have removed to Brighton, Miss Bingley,” she replied airily, “a necessary event for the Militia and a most happy event for those who are now relieved of the necessity of entertaining them.”
Darcy did not trust himself to turn back to note Miss Bingley’s reaction lest she see the grateful relief that flowed through his frame and across his face. Instead, he gave himself over to the pleasure of observing the satisfaction her parry had induced in Elizabeth’s eyes and the puzzle of how he was to thank her. Before he could come to any conclusion, she leaned toward Georgiana and lightly brushed her hand. He caught his breath, the wonder of her concern for his sister holding him, warming him as she turned her face up to meet his. No words, of thanks or gratitude, were needed, her eyes told him. She already knew his heart on this matter, and his trust of her was not misplaced.
His heart swelling, Darcy took a seat opposite them and engaged her directly, carefully choosing his subject for both his ladies’ sakes. “I must say, Miss Bennet, your uncle is a true disciple of Mr. Walton, possessed of an excellent disposition for the sport. I left him in high spirits happily pursuing my trout.”
“Indeed?” Elizabeth smiled back at him, her light scent of lavender entrapping his senses. “He has often mentioned how his concerns have kept him from indulging in what was once, before his marriage, a passion of considerable proportion. I am glad he has had the opportunity to enjoy it, especially as he has so good-naturedly put himself at the disposal of two demanding women for his entire holiday. I thank you for his invitation.”
“It was my pleasure,” he managed to reply, then tore his gaze away to glance at Georgiana. She remained silent, as yet unequal to even this inconsequential an exchange. His pause seemed to have decided Elizabeth, and she rose.
“I fear we must be going, sir.”
He rose immediately as well, reasons and schemes to detain her coming quickly to the fore; but there was that presence about her that stayed him, and he held his peace. Mrs. Gardiner came then to stand beside her niece and offered her thanks for their welcome and for her husband’s invitation. Darcy bowed his acknowledgment. “Your husband’s skill has not diminished, madam. It was a privilege to observe him. If you and Miss Elizabeth Bennet must go,” he continued, “please, permit me to see you to your carriage.” Of course, they could not refuse, and with smiles of thanks they allowed him to usher them to the door after taking leave of his sister and the other ladies.
Standing in his hall, Darcy looked down upon Elizabeth, her glorious crown of hair coming only just to his shoulder, and was beset by so many emotions that he could barely sort them out, save for one. He loved her. It was as simple and as complicated as that. The simplicity lay in the nature of his love, for it was centered upon Elizabeth rather than himself or his desires and arose from the deepest wish to be the one whose privilege it was to do her good all her days. The complication lay within him. He could not make her love him or arrange for it as he did all his other concerns. He could only show her who he had become and was becoming…and hope.
Little of import could be said while they waited the few minutes required for their carriage to pull up to the entrance, but he could not let even so small an opportunity pass him by. “Miss Darcy and I look forward with pleasure to your visit tomorrow.”
“As do we, sir,” Mrs. Gardiner replied.
It appeared that Elizabeth would remain silent, allowing her aunt to offer all the civilities, but then she lifted her face and met his hopeful gaze with a sincerity that took his breath away. “Indeed, sir. Please, say as much to Miss Darcy, also?”
“I shall,” he promised, hope taking a small foothold in his heart. He waited until the carriage settled before handing Mrs. Gardiner up, then turned to Elizabeth. This time he was not made to wait for her hand. She gave it to him willingly. As his hand closed around her gloved fingers, delight coursed through him; and as she depended on his arm to assist her up, deep feelings of protectiveness followed it.
“Until tomorrow.” His voice was hoarse with all that possessed him, but Elizabeth heard him. Her answering smile was soft, its sweet contours remaining with him as the carriage bore her away. He watched after her until the trees of the park swallowed up the carriage. Even then, he was reluctant to rejoin the ladies in the salon, but he had to return to Georgiana to see how she fared. He stepped into the room just as Mrs. Hurst was agreeing with her sister upon some matter, a not unusual occurrence in their filial relationship, only to be addressed by Miss Bingley upon the same subject.
“How very ill Eliza Bennet looks this morning, Mr. Darcy. I never in my life saw anyone so much altered as she is since the winter!” She sniffed her incredulity. “She is grown so brown and coarse! Louisa and I were agreeing that we should not have known her again.”
A thorough disgust with Caroline Bingley gripped him. Not only her words but her very tone and manner were offensive to him. “Haughty as a duchess and heartless as a jade,” he had once named her. She had not improved a wit since but was, in fact, hardening into a caricature of both. “I perceived no alteration in her,” he replied coolly, “save in her being rather tanned. That is no miraculous consequence, as she has traveled some distance and in summer.”
Miss Bingley was not to be prevented her declamation but continued on despite the note of caution a wiser woman would have recognized in his voice. “For my own part, I must confess that I never could see any beauty in her. Her face is too thin; her complexion has no brilliancy; and her features are not at all handsome.” Darcy ground his teeth, his jaw hardening; but her list was not yet complete. “Her nose wants character; there is nothing marked in its lines. Her teeth are tolerable, but not out of the common way; and as for her eyes, which have sometimes been called so fine” — she glanced at him but, to his disbelief, continued on — “I never could perceive anything extraordinary in them. They have a sharp, shrewish look, which I do not like at all; and in her air altogether, there is a self-sufficiency without fashion, which is intolerable.” The last she had said to his back as he turned sharply away and sat down next to Georgiana. His sister looked at him with amazement at what she heard and what he was tolerating. She laid a hand upon his.
“I remember, when we first knew her in Hertfordshire, how amazed we all were to find that she was a reputed beauty.” Darcy’s jaw flexed. She had reached the limit of what he was prepared to countenance. Only care for Elizabeth’s name prevented him from confirming Miss Bingley’s suspicions with a demand she vacate his home at once. “And I particularly recollect your saying one night, after they had been dining at Netherfield, ‘She a beauty! I should as soon call her mother a wit.’ But afterwards she seemed to improve on you, and I believe you thought her rather pretty at one time.”
At this last pronouncement he could contain himself no longer but rose with a bound and turned upon her an eye that had made grown men step backward. “Yes,” he replied icily, “but that was only when I first knew her; for it is many months since I have considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance.” The shock on Miss Bingley’s face gave him no pleasure, but neither did her company or her conceits. He could no longer bear any of them. With the briefest of bows, he left the room, his disgust taking him straight out the door and toward the river. With any luck, Mr. Gardiner and his own tackle would still be there…and Hurst and Bingley would not. At this particular moment the silent counsel of creation and the serene example of Elizabeth’s relative would best quiet his angered spirit. Suitably obliging trout, he mused, would not be amiss, either!